why does my heart feel so sad - moby

...............

Strangely this morning my thoughts drifted to Daryl, prompted by the memory of us at age 14, running across hougang swimming complex wooping, not one bit body conscious, soaking up rays and the chlorinated water. Our brother-sisterly relationship was more or less like mine with Patrick. Back in highschool he called me babe(stil does), people who didn't know us lumped us together, pictures we took together at prom were ridiculous but looked more fitting than those I took with my date. we (still)share the cynical yet hopeful and hopelessly romantic view of life and love, and the enjoyment of midnight club hopping, if not for the wandering amongst unfamiliar bodies with the flashing neon lights and thumping music.. only I hand out my free drinks coupons while he chugs beer with the other guys. we proclaimed each other similarly charismatic and special while graduating from holy innocents, then hardly ever saw each other again, except for that one day he was the first to slip that silvery necklace around my neck, give me a hug and tell me to take good care minutes before I stepped onto the plane which, with the tears pouring from my eyes, would change my life forever.

I don't know why I thought of him. he didnt play a big role in my life, not even the slightest crush happened. We were strictly platonic.. and for the past 3 years, the only times we met were completely accidental. I don’t even miss him that much, I am not even sure what friend status to give him.. yet that one memory persists.. 2 boys(ron was there too) and 1 girl, hovering near the peak of full blown adolescence, so simple, so confused, our awkward voices rising clear and strong toward the blazing Singaporean sun.

Then there was bengimin lam ke wei. My first friend and neighbor in charlton. The strange skinny darkskinned boy who taught me how to swing from one monkey bar to another with no effort.. and taught me how to swear. and who shared scraped knees and obnoxious bruises from recklessly jumping on miniature skateboards, whacking each other with wooden sticks when we play fight and while performing ridiculous stunts on his painful looking porch, where I hung out for most of 1996. and the funniest thing was, we had to tell people we were cousins to ward off fishy suspicions.

Then we drifted apart toward the end of primary school, as I leaned toward my books and slightly more passive and subdued friends like Patrick, cedric, kenny and thh. We still met up for soccer once in a while, still yelled at each other from our own houses, held up that slowly fading friendship until secondary 3, where I finally joined the pompous studious snobs "up there" while he drifted to the normal-technical stream.. had to be sent to behavioral school.. got fixed up and became some wushu bigshot and despite STILL being in the same secondary school, our lives twisted and grew in different directions, and then our friendship finally broke down when he moved away. No more looking out the window half expecting him to wave. I finally got him on my buddys list on msn a year ago.. but that was also the last time we spoke in so many years.. albeit electronically. I wonder how he is doing.

And his best friend, Justin. The one who would wear socks abd sprinkle talcum powder on smooth flooring to slide around to the song Mr. Bombastic, made popular by that levis commercial on tv. the three of us we so close during primary school. And I would partake in every boyish activity they had. Climbing trees, water guns. The most amusing thing about Justin is that.. two years after we lost touch, he came to be the character in my idiotic smoker boyfriend story I would tell to others for a laugh. Despite all the rehabilitation, conversion to Christianity and juvenile arrests, he didn't change. There was one redeeming thing though, he would call at 3am in the morning while he was out fishing, and sing to me while I nodded off. How cute. Im curious if ben still has those infamous sleepovers at justin's mansion. I would suspect so. They were wonderful friends. I was the reject, the goody two-shoes who did her homework and picked up a different lifestyle, somewhat more complex than the one I had at 12.. all I can do now is smile.. for them.

Karen. How can I ever forget Karen.. the eccentric little girl who saw herself as more mature than everyone else around us.. but she was my best best buddy in Charlton. I do not really know what to speak of her, except for my constant incredulity of her reluctance to come run around in the park with us or simply go out.. and insistence of staying in her dark pinkish home all day. But I remember admiring her closeness to her two sisters, tracing pictures cut out from magazines along their shared dresser sitting in an apartment in bedok. She was one to talk behind a person’s back. Prone to gossip and silent anger and jealousy. I heard from someone else she vowed to cut off ties with everyone in Charlton once the PSLE results were in.. which she successfully did. I was not too tramuatised. A lot of politics arose at that time amongst us all at that time.. and I still had thh and other buddies.I wonder how she is doing also.

My oldest friend ever possible. The guy I known since I was 4. Lam hongye. our families were friends, despite different schools and living in different areas.. we remained close all the way till secondary 2. for some reason my entire life took a sharp turn when at the age of 15(secondary 3). there is no way I can forget the Saturdays he spent over at my house, lugging that huge bag of plastic swords and toys behind him. we basically grew up together.. even early pictures with my family had him in it... I temporarily became his parent's daughter(he was the only child).. they took us everywhere, lavished us with unreasonably huge sums of money at amusement parks or arcades. Even as we grew older when we went out while we were still drifting apart, his parents pressed money into his hands, telling him to dress smart and take me out to a nice dinner.

For some reason we just do not talk anymore. Although I am absolutely sure I am not forgotten, having received a little puny msg informing me he now has a gf and is now in the army. But everything else, I don’t know. Funny eh, relationships between people. One minute we were pelting water bombs at each other, mouths wide with laughter, combining our pocket money to buy a bubble gun. The next, over thousands of miles and 3 years after quietly slipping that little bracelet with our two names engraved on both sides into my hands as a goodbye at the airport, we only probably pop up in each other’s minds once in a while when we get nostalgic. Then again, I am probably just more sentimental than he is.

These are not the only friends I had that somehow impacted my life and then disappeared of course. These are the ones who just happen to wander into my mind as I was typing this.
At the same time, im looking at my own life right now, suppressing the anger, sorrow, joy and frustration rising up all at once. Its not nostaligia.. I just miss the friends that have NOT disappeared. I miss how easy it used to be to spend my days, without planning. Days I truly appreciated the rare times I sat alone in my balcony-turned-into-room, reading at my good old huge ass table. I should ask my parents if it is still there in the house.

Sometimes I ask myself why should I feel this lonely. why i have to punch myself to stop feeling so shitty. I have everything I need for now almost. Like what Ronald said : a happy family, pretty well off, big boobs i dont want(lol), an amazing bf who occasionally feels intangible, relatively good social skills, not many friends but receiving life changing education and a car. My life IS supposed to be almost complete.. I should stop picking battles with myself. Bored is good, they say. Bored is safe.

Hadn't I always wanted safe? when then am i taking deep breaths to stop myself from picking this keyboard up and smashing it against the monitor and table?

Desiring Only - P.K. Page

Desiring only the lean sides of the stomach
sagging towards each other, unupholstered...
pass me nothing of love done up in chocolates
or the fat first fruits of the tree
you planted from seed.

Desiring only the bone on the Mount of Venus
and the death rattle caught in the musical powder box...
pass me no hand, then, as offertory,
no, nor sound of your voice.
Keep silent and do not touch me.
Even the air on my face is an effrontery.

Desiring only the bare soles of the feet
pacing triumphantly the ultimate basement...
pass me no thick-carpeted personal contact,
nor little slippers of pity and understanding.

Waking - such goreous imagery

I lie in the long parenthesis of arms
dreaming of love
and the crying cities of Europe

wake to the bird a whistler in my room
and sun a secret.

Light on the bed of air
and buoyed by morning
and easy bugle of breath
projects an echo

while over the difficult room
the brimming wndow
opens the bandaged eyes
to the shape of Asia.

Invalid, I -
and crippled by sleep's illness,
drowned in the milk of sheets
and silk of dreams,
I rise and write the rising curve of day
with mercury of the smashed thermometer
and trouble the silent mirror, who have been
pale in suspension on the oval bed.

u know what pisses me off. when people put a gender lid on everything. like do you really think you are THAT special? bah. thinking men or women independently created the rise of poor sad bachelors, bisexuals, homosexuals, depression, blah blah. lame ass theories. blah blah, we poor sad girls.. men can't be trusted.. they dont understand us.. blah blah, hey fellow sob brothers.. women are too complicated... they can't be trusted. boohoo. SHUT UP. we're just people for god's sake. lay off the stupid superficiality and stop complaining. screw you all. men and women both like fuking each other up. dont sit on your ass and wail collectively about how the opposite sex ruined your life. everyone messes up.

i spent my entire life fighting against stereotypes and now im just tired. i used to argue that pms is no reason to be bitchy.. girl politics are stupid.. the fact that boys should do the dirty work is bullcrap.. that girls must not be too fat. too pumped.. that guys cannot hit a girl.. blah blah blah. i used to believe in mind over body. its so bloody annoying. shut up girl, who gives a crap about your cramps. grin and bear it. guys you want to be macho.. than ACTUALLY BE MACHO. dont FAKE it. its such a lousy flaw. FLAWS. its all about hiding flaws. go ahead get jealous.. just dont BITCH about it.

i bitch about everyone. everyone else bitches about everyone. a cycle of irritating bitching. why is it so bloody hard to find a friend? why must everyone be so pretentious? stop staring at my chest asshole. look at me in the face and talk. and stupid woman stop giving me dirty looks and TALK.

the thing is.. i cant believe i cultivated the same kind of jealousy girls share all around. i cant believe i let myself learn that. how lovely to be oblivious those years back.. when i didnt give a toss about competition. what the hell are we all competing for anyways? attention?! is that it? competition for attention? whats wrong with people these days. the existence of the stupid celebrity world is just pepetuating the harm done to people more than anything else. i cant believe i let myself fall into this pit. like wtf.. say my best friend wears the exact same thing.. or at least not far off(girls like to make sure this happens).. and they get smug like a bloody monkey that you look beter than her. WHAT IS THIS?!

im full of contradictions. i believe in laying out all your cards.. flaws and all.. and at the same time.. tucking the smudged cards under the table. man, i dont know. i hate pretentiousness.. and at the same time.. im one of the most disgsutingly pretentious people when i meet people i dont like or dont understand. vile hypocrisy.

ergh. whatever.

tihnk im gonna go to york early today.. stick my head in the books and get my essay out of the way. hammy i wanna go shopping :(

You And Me Song - The Wannadies ... happy sweet song to start the day!

Always will we find
I tried to make you love
'Til everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

Always will we fight
Kiss you once or twice
And everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

I love your Sunday song
The week's not yet begun
And everything is quiet
And it's always

You and me
Always and forever

Bop bop bop bop bop
It was always
You and me
Always

You tell me I'm a real man
I try to look impressed
Not very convincing
But you know I love it

I know we watch TV
'Til we fall asleep
Not very exciting
But it's you and me

And we'll always
Be together
You and me
Always and forever

its 2 something and i still can't sleep. must be the latte or something...

this whole ego bash between me and steve got me thinking about some other related things.. the concepts of feminity and masculinity. something i find ironic is that feminist extremists resort to displaying masculine attributes in order to make their point of the irrelevency of gender. its just like saying we need women who are like men while saying we don't need men at the same time. it just... doesnt fit to me.

i grew up being taught to sit, dress, eat, talk, walk like a girl who should be attracted to boys - boys who throw rocks and play with guns instead of dolls. girls to be girly. boys will be boys. pink is for girls. blue's for boys. i can't say, despite my inner struggle to choose between fighting or embracing it, that i am not taken by masulinity. although i dislike the bold, neon lines separating feminity and masculinity sometimes, i cannot escape the fact that this arrangement is still most comfortable with me.

the whole time hammy's watch was sitting on my table, i marvel at the contrast between that one thing and all my other stuff. it sat there, far too big for my wrist, metallic, almost symbolic of everything i am and my attraction to certain things. i tell myself i am a strong, independent female mind.. but when i stare at that watch I picked out for him, some weird indentity problems get triggered. how do i explain to myself why very-much=taller, bigger-sized-than-me-men and wonderfully masculine belt buckles and gorgeous suits and cufflinks and that particular series of BMWs appeal to me so, so greatly? how do i explain the irritation i feel when guys tell me its good to be the girlier person i am now? why do i feel so annoyed with myself for succumbing to useless girlish tendencies? then i wonder, if i was against the whole pretending-to-be-like-men deal, shouldn't i be happy im adapting fine to society? its just weird. i cant explain it. i had moments i wanted to pick it up and do what i used to do with my old rings, have that cool metallic iron taste against my tongue.. and at the same time.. im almost relieved to get it off my table.

clarification : i am not saying i only adore the extreme end of the masculine continunm.. boyishness is absolutely endearing to me too. and many other things in between. all im talking about are the supposedly cold, hard lines of masculinity against the supposedly thin, fragile baby lily stems of feminity... and how i feel standing on one side staring over the fence that is gradually getting more and more crowded.

.......... well i guess readers would have had enough of all that by now.. haha.. and noo of course thats not all i tihnk about. been thinking alot about the crazy past couple years. not crazy coz it was overflowing with fun and excitement... but crazy coz of of the things that changed in my life.. events that occurred.. the heartbreaking loneliness.. the tears i practically drowned in. then i fell in love.

excerpt from diary 7/1/05:
"so much has changed. sometimes i wonder if too much has.

i had never really daydreamed spending my eternity with a particular someone, travelling the globe, fighting battles or laughing with a particular someone beside me perhaps until lately.

i feel so ridiculous somehow saying this aloud. i tihnk of lindsay lohan publically proclaiming to the media her intent on settling down early, waking up to her true love each morning and being adored unconditionally. i think of her giddy smile, radiant cheeks, her head obviously in the clouds. i think of her saying this with that smile on her face and how her true love left her a few months after. so young, they say. so naive and silly, at 18 she was. is it really wrong to feel that way?

i fear saying this aloud. i fear the rejection. the blank stares, vacant eyes. mocking lips, anxious distancing footsteps.

i dare not say this aloud. i think of superstition. of the divine. the logically impossible. the sweetness magically evaporating.

maybe i just fear and need too much."

.....

its 3:15am. sigh, i better try to get to sleep.

okok i really should go to the gym.. chubby chubby purl.

look at this gorgeous poem:

PAVEMENT
walking

(barefoot)

down city streets
it is possible
to ignore
the chaos
of modernity

and tap
into a time
wen clad feet
were
undiscovered

return
to your lair
and you will find
your feet

blackened

with the grime
of today

after scrubbing
nothing
will remind
(of you epiphany)

but one
black footprint
in you
white tub

Cassandra Drudi

arrrrgggg its so pretty!! its from the U of T poetry thing. how come york has nothing like that?! psh. so much for encouraging and nuturing talent.

omg another one of them random nosebleeds. IM DYING!! ergh. feel like it anyways.

i dont know what i am talking about... hmms hammy still has an hour of work left.. ill go to the gym at 2something or 3... shower and head to school. bloody school.

was reading another one of them lists where "the ping you felt when you first kissed him" was included as one of the things no one wil ever take away from you.. well i never really understood why the first kiss is so overrated... little kids grow up thinking there will be fireworks in the sky and everything and everyone lives happily ever after. sure, it may be the start of something wonderful and everything.. and the first of anything is usually memorable.. but i always found the intense kiss of a familiar love more powerful. a kiss you share with someone not at the begining, but someone who HAS ALREADY BEEN there, and gave you more reasons that u started with to love him/her.

bah someone with a unfamiliar number called and hung up on me :s

batman begins was really goood!!! was over 2 hours but worth the ass hurting! and i havent watched mrs smith yet. hmms. club monaco has pretty dresses on sale for 79!!! mm. well. i wont get them dont worry. yes hammy, even if its on sale it doesnt mean i have to buy it :). u see.. sometimes i just cant shake off the fact that i am not anyone special really.. and it really doesnt matter what i wear and look like and i cant afford the useless pretty things..and that even desperately willing a mini copper or any car i like to materialize before me to be mine wouldnt ever work.. and thanks to a stupid mirror today i understand why hy used to say i look like a guy from the back. hahaa. meh. see, i still cant come back down to earth. BAH.

mmm i feel sleepy. must be the fan blowing in my face. hmm.. shall sit down quietly and read poetry later. bloody essay comin up. *sobs* i hate essays! moments like these, i must admit.. i wish i stayed on the science path. the dark side is beckoning. hmm.. to think about it.. im proabably one of the rare 4A peoples who became art students.

its funny how i never really talked about my trip back to singapore despite the countless blog entries leading up to it.. i tried.. but u know.. i havent really had words down about the many things that went spining when i went back. things that changed. things that remained the same. people who changed. and people who remained the same. newly forged bonds with people i never thought would be this close to me, reconciliation, old friends who just keep on fading. and people i totally forget and hurt unintentionally. things said. things held in. it was all pretty strange. it was only 2 weeks and a bit.. an everytime i return home.. i anticipate a time i can go back and fit in comfortably with that new understanding of the place i once called home that i had just attained. then again, given the gaps inbetween, i wont be suprised to be suprised. But, like they said i've changed, maybe its just how i chose to see that changed.

u know how there was always an invisible segregation between the different classes and streams back in secondary school(high school).. and its always funny how i stil feel that protectiveness whenever ron kan makes an irritating isolent remark about the people i used to sweat my ass off with in the same room for hours each weekday.. and scenes of violence would play themselves in my head.. then again.. it might just be me finding almost everything he says and does excruciatingly annoying. HOWEVER, people still group each other that way.... " na ge 4B de" or "that normal one".... right?! its weird. damm hierarchical (how do u say it?!) education system. we will probably be 40 and balding and saying that same damm thing during reunions. but i guess it gives us an easier way to remember people we dont want to/bother to/simply just don't remember.

sentiment may be for fools.. but this fool cant help it. i get emotional when i look at my old stuff. sighs. :)

WOW MAKEUP DOES MAGIC!! i just saw this picture of this girl i dont rememeber the name off who was actually quite erm.. plain.. and she looks so gorgeous!! the clear skin, darkened eyes and dyed hair and everything. wows. how come i doesnt do magic to me:(

well i should get changed to go to school.. and find way to hide them bloody zits.

/i lie in bed and listen to
offbeat thump of my heart to
tick - ing of the clock to
creak - ing stairway
hushed voices.
- contained within the distant high pitched scream of silence
emitting from amber and emerald walls.

yellow, they say, is for luck.

green, for the numb - ness that is
s l i d i n g
deep
in
side
of
m
e
.

/eleven.
the ring - ing of the tel e p hone
jolts me from my reverie -
his voice murmers empty words of adoration over the layers of static -
but his
hand i can - not touch.
the cold from the icecube he passes to hot lips for-got-ten.
noiseless tears do not betray
this helpless desperation. urgency. rush. wave. surge.
pain.
- i do not add to the silence anymore.

/isolated.
alone.
nothing.
invisible.
i.
am.
again.
life, they say, becomes an empty big hole.

why, thy love, delicate and sweet, torment me so?

- p u r l -

..........

well its not totally autobiographical..

i think i sorta know why i like garden state that much.. its not an amazing movie with any wonderful effects or anything.. but esp the ending the character natalie portman plays reminds me of myself. i can understand her pleas and that urgency. well i dont know. sigh, i dont know anything.

"Now, watching the moth, maybe it isn't just a matter of faith. Or of hope, or even guesswork. Maybe it's just that certain moths decide to smash themselves to death. Who knows why? Or maybe what’s going on is that the moths dont understand shades of resemblance. To them, if a thing looks enough like another thing, it is the other thing. All lights are the moon. The moth is all over moths and all other moths are the moth. There is one human, and he is everywhere.
There is one human, and he is nowhere." - Barbara Gowdy

........ for the sake of boredom... beckett reminds me of quite extreme alternatives i know i shouldnt do.. hence this lousy piece of a survey

*_YOU_*
1.What Time is it now? 10:06
2.What is your name? eaf;iehdnv
3.Single or taken? taken
4.What does your name mean? i have no bloody idea
5.Who picked out your name? my mom
6.What's your nickname? purl
7.How old are you? 18 going on 81
8.What colour are your eyes? purple
10.What size are your shoes? 6
12.Tall (or short)? short
13.Honestly what do you like about yourself? your mom likes me
14.my talents: getting into a filthy mood within 2 seconds
15.What is your worst quality? sloppiness
16.Phone Number? 416-NEED-A-LIFE
18.Hair colour? yellow
19.Do you wear contacts? they keep me sane.. occasionally
20.Who do you live with? my aunt jodie and her 58 cats
21.Favourite Drink? nestquik choclate thingamagig, milk tea, water, turpentine
23.Favourite month? dont have one. but warmer weather preferred
24.Favourite Food? i eat everything. but i binge when no one's watching
25.Favourite board Game? scrabble. be mortified. be very mortified.
26.Favourite Web Site? howtoblowyourbrainout.com
27.Favorite clothing Brand? anything YOU cant afford.
28.Favourite day of the Year? bah, i dont know
29.Favourite colour? the colour you get when i poke your eyes out
30.Favourite Animal? my aunt's 58 cats
31.Do you have more girl or guy friends? girls give me dirty looks and boys dont give a shit. i dont know.
33.Are your parents together? yes
34.How often do you get together with family? almost every day
36.Anythin special about your parents? plenty
37.Siblings and their ages? dawne 16, brother 25
38.You're a flirt? when your mom's around, yeah.
41.You like someone? yup
42.Can you keep secrets? sure
43.Do you dance in front of the mirror? hoping like a retard counts right?
45.You sing in the shower? no
46.You liked Britney Spears? if her abs meant anything yea.
47.You've liked a cousin? er heck no.
48.You've been in the opposite sexes' bathroom? durh
49.You've seriously hurt someone? sure. dont know
50.You've been hurt seriously? in the brain and in my overactive heart yea
51.You swear? not much. unless you ______ want to start some _______ with me.
52.You get your way? not always.
53.You're willing to try new things? yea
54.You've cheated on a test? long ago yeah
55.You've smoked? nopes

*_RGHT NOW_
57.What are you wearing? stuff i just woke up in
58.What colour is your underwear? cobalt
59.What are you listening to? my own typing and the birds outside
60.How are you feeling? dont know. frustrated?
61.What are you doing? this. stupid.
62.What are you eating? nothing
63.How many people are online? no one i want to talk to.
64.The weather? good. im up for another day of frying.
65.What's on your mouse pad? stupid happy words that make me feel like heaving my entire desk out the window.

......... on second thought.. i think i might just go hang myself

bah, read this list online about the 10 single things a girl should own. so shockingly stupid.. it actually suggests that a girl should own books and music just to IMPRESS the man. *rolls eyes out of sockets* it can kiss my girly ass... i listen to what i want and read what i want to read.. sure i might adapt and evolve accordingly to someone i choose to belong with and compliment... but pSH. i aint buying nothing to put on my shelf as a lie for such a ridiculous and disempowering reason. PISH TOSH! i hate it when girls go all out and do ludicrious things to impress men.. they are supposed to fall at your feet for YOU being YOU! bah, wear those green hooker heels(speaking for myself) and boob job(err.. i quite like the reverse so im referring to general image-obsessed public) and books and sappy genuwine cd(damm right im speaking for myself) for yourself.

got truly madly deeply stuck in my head.. *whistles*

"i was a very happy man when you all were little kids" - daddy, when looking through stack of baby photos sitting on my table. lols... until the little kids grew from adorable critters to awkward weirdos.

sigh, back to shedule fixing... got an essay due on thursday.. *snore*

You and I,
this sweet battleground


i am uncareful.

i am undone. tangled amongst the glowing runes on the wall.

i do things i would never do.


the perfect version of him in me only surges more recklessly each day with

the tremor of my palpitating heart.

the cold has returned. eyes downcast. its me and my marguerite once again.


fly, the time that races with fervent, frantic kisses from plump-red lips to which your fingers

fly to.

fly you, under the warmth of skin of mine - the stumble toward ecstasy.


bare hands

bare feet

bare -


you are colours absitine, amber and red.

you are my life, my breath, my companion to my body, guest in my heart.

you are the fire in my hair.

-p u r l-

deliberate allusions and plagarising.. from myself!! and of course one or two things i have read. im an amateur afterall. i could go on but i tihnk readers would have the creeps that im some obsessive crazy love sick woman... which is bad :) sigh, i love my revamped blogskin, yorkdale and hammy and the unbelievably sexy ferrari he showed me. (lol of course i would need more water if YOu were in that car)

gotta hit the gym tomorrow!!!!gotta get a nice back and arms ready to wear that black top without anything over it and toned legs for my mini!! and yes, of course, that toned tummy for low pants my dad freaks out over whenever i wear em. then im gonna get a haircute/newstyle/trim when the curls flatten out! and revive that nice glowy tan i WAS abt to get and is now slowly losing all the progress with the return of the cold weather on a day before summer officially starts. haha little silly motivations that somehow make me happy in my ultimately pointless life. but i really wonder if anyone really gives a poop. f it. im gonna hand my resume in to starbucks.

tsk tsk, women and the random moodswing.

i found another role model... salma hayek!! shes another popular icon who is not dropdead gorgeous.. but shes such an empowered humanitarian and glamorous with a personality that screams out "i am all woman, take me as i am"!! ahhaa.. models and gorgeous and stylish people can make me go green and purple in the face with jealousy but she is so inspiring. angelina still sits on my altar though. :)

i hope i dont get any bad dreams again tonight.. last nights was quite horrifying i must say. *shudders* i actually woke up feeling UNrested and scared.

hmmmms shall also work on my essay tomorrow.. and then PERHAPS start cutting my fabric for the curtains in the room or start sewing or something. WHATEVER.

"What is he suggesting if it isn’t that attachment interferes with fulfillment?
I think of the emptiness of outer space, and men in their little pods going up there alone, wives and girlfriends left behind. I think of Abel and me lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and how great that was, but, still, I was always waiting for him to turn his head. To look at me." - The Romantic, Barbara Gowdy.

i am not exactly a fan of love stories.. but Gowdy got me right there. *points to temporarily broken heart*

is she even aware the personas she had created might have reached out to more than she intended? maybe she's right. maybe she hadn't been exaggerating. maybe Isabel Allende isnt either. maybe it is the ego that saves many of us. me, im still teetering on the edge.

its always strange when i stare at pictures of myself when i was a little toddler and find myself unable to connect with that laughing girl with glowy eyes and her two front teeth missing. but when i look closely.. i ache to feel the soft gums in the gap of the two missing teeth, the stiff wool of the ratty stuffed doggy and the rustle of the low quality wet marketplace plastic bag in her tiny hands.
i must have been there. somehow.

everyday you seem a little farther.

due to ronald's contagious/infectious depression about the superficiality of modern mankind/womenkind in the world of celebrity posters and senseless television shows... i am here to express my pent up frustration shared by similarly retarded girls such as i. oprah did it.. many other stupid teenage books have done it.. and here i am again to do it.. simply coz lookig in the mirror and then remembering retarded things and feeling the typical 2005 society's pressure SUCKS ASS everyday.

i still don understand why i even bother TRYING to look good everyday. i mean comon.. no matter what i buy, what i wear.. what i use.. im just gonna be NORMAL. whos gonna notice and give a shit anyways. its like yay i got a new shirt.. SO?? effin idiot.. i look fine. FINE. not like anything i do would make any diference. whats the point of feeling ugly .. no ones gonna notice! even if i feel gorgeous.. IM NOT! pathetic eh. who cares about inner depth anymore. just like howard who got let down... just bring out the bling bling and gorgeous ladies.. everyne else can stay at home, turn on the tele, dig in into the tub of icecream and watch.

ok, so growing up in this age is more hard on the tweens. guys think the only way to be attractive is to be muscled, behaving like little peabrains and have enoough cash to pass around... which actually works.. coz girls flock to these people.. and girls can only hope to attract as much attention as they like by being gorgeous and behaving accordingly. and besides.. face it people.. u might tell yourself people resort to artificial means to make themselves look like that.. but usually they dont. just face it. you are simply not good enough like tha tlike them. yes, naturally.

im not saying i crave the attention or anything.. it just pisses me off. like wtf. why ddont i just tear up my entire wardrobe and give up hopes that i will ever reach my "ideal".. which is obviously, inevitably and in the most pathetic manner, shaped by the media. im frustrated at how much i give a poop about APPEARANCE. i dont want to care how i look in those bloody shoes.. i dont want to worry my legs look exactly like hideous unattractive pig trotters and that pink makes me look like little miss muppet coz im pudgy and short and yellowish.. i dont wnat to sigh at the broadness of my shoulders.. my disgustinly fleshy arms.. the worry of disappearing obliques with the appearance of love handles and ugly not-so-girlyish-feet and my loathesome boobs that get in the way.. its like whats the point of normal lookig women purchasig gorgeous lingerie only to realise that unlike the marketting they look CRAP in it.. and then wonder why you give a shit when you stare at your bf/gf/wife/husband/lover/whatever stare and drool at and fervently defend someone on tv.. your self-esteem then plummets and expectations increase.. when will you ever be good enough for yourself anyways? whats the point of me even getting pissed off sitting here with my stupid blotchy skin and my aching flabby back hunched over my superficially dysfunctional legs.. and i cant beleive i like wearing heels!!! and then complain when i STILL look like shit. WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME!!? AND I GET JEALOUS OF GIRLS ON POSTERS AND EPOPLE I DONT EVEN KNOW!!! so much for not succumbing to stereotypes.. even extremist feminists who actuualy WANT TO FEEL LOVED out there probably struggle with this everyday when they look at their empty calander and boring sensible shoes. then again.. its probably a humankind tradition... ERGH.

stupid shallow women. stupid shallow men. stupid segregation. stupid world. stupid permeable, easily affected, weak, lousy, materialistic, hypocritical me.

there is just something about waking up to an empty, silent house. It fills me with a sense of purposeless purpose and a continuous stream of words that i would fumble with and often drop and forget. The world expands and envelopes me in a comforting silent void that nurses my little slightly cracked lonely core.

i then take a shower, brush my teeth. the typical daily rituals one performs upon a night's slumber, restful and restless likewise. a ritual to officially begin the day with. out of desperation to fill the empty day that lay before me after i finsihed another breath taking novel and letting it sink in, i brought the pants and books i meant to return to H&m and the library respectively.

walking in the mall, i catch my reflection off gleaming surfaces.. my shoulders tensed as always, the quick solemn stride i adopt when im out alone. Who can love me? i still wonder sometimes, staring at myself. these ungainly fleshy limbs attached to its flawed counterparts- the torso, the head, the shoulders - along with all their cumbersome obtuse components i abhor with an unhealthy obession. i know my body does everything for me - i smell, i touch, i hear, i taste - it takes me places, bares me to pain, pleasure, distractions. i ought to love it, yes, i really should. posters and books and tv shows have women shaking their perfectly coiffed hair and manicured nails in the air demanding to be appreciated for everything they are.. inside and out. but sometimes i think they forget, being caught in the small little screen, frozen in time, judged by their shallow words, breathy voices, glowing skin... they are already perfect. they dont have body parts getting in their way, holding them down.. it is exactly the superficiality that is keeping them up and admired... i always wanted to be waif-like, without the repulsive softness surrounding my bones, not so i can strut down runways.. no, im a romantic.. i want to slip into shadows when i want to, be loved like an oread, be subdued and crushed by a lover's embrace.

im a fraud. im all fake, an imposter. constantly i harbour the fear of being caught, of being found out that i am not everyone thinks i am. i'm merely a walking persona.. its pearle who is wearing that skirt, shes the one who is obesessed about fashion and powerful women who inspire her, shes the one writing that essay, buying that dior lipgloss, weaving blogs i somestimes cant identify as mine/hers, shes the one indulging in chocolate, giggling, laughing with that careless abandon - but not me. what if someone finds out im all pretense. i cant possibly look like that, talk like that, laugh like that, triumph that way, fail this way. no, i dont want to be part of those contradictions, the confusion, mixed identities- funny, coz me being this way is part of it. how ironic. sometimes i would just like to think its inevitable, uncontrollable - just not me. just not my fault. i know it is.. but please dont tell me?

to escape. run away. avoid. to detach. ignore. pretend. to be blind. deaf. voiceless.

i read blog entries of people feeling like they are drowing in pools of their own imagination, the whirl pool of pain, the closing up of the heart, the slowing of the feet... with the undercurrent of longing... for a friend perhaps?

this struck me when i read edward's blog, with his need to slow down and shut everything else unfamiliar out. its funny how people move simultaneously to the same currents. breathe, submerge, crash. and take another deep breath. my love, would you hold on to my hand?

another thing that strikes me as funny is how i naturally censor things i put in my poetry and writing. it is my blog yes, but im aware that people do read it and would not like being apalled or grinning a little too smugly at the words i lace together and publish. and of course, i dont think anyone really wants to give themsleves away. not that i scrutinize every word i type...i just, like everyone else, censor it with the "natural" instinct we subconsciously "download" as we grow up... and of course.. i harbour that false hope that one day students would pick out my writing and unpack it merticulously.. to find the hints i tucked carefully in puny gaps, the faintly coloured edges. haha.

was reading "A thousand pieces of Gold" by Ruthanne Lum McCunn about a girl from china who was sold to bandits and then to a brothel and ended up marrying a white guy in the 1880s. it wasnt that well written.. but easy to read.. and for some reason.. i just thought of how,, during the 20th century.. when globalization started going insane, how chinese ladies(actually.. AUNTIES) smugly tell the younger generation that the "superior" white men like asian girls because we are mild-er, dainty-er, exotic-er and sweeter than the "aggressive" white women. it was almost as if i, 5 years old, in my frilly little cinderella dress, was supposed to be proud of this evolution of stereotypes. and while this is going on.. friends of my own *ahem* stare with their mouths hanging open at blondes in a bikini. LOLs. sorry.. or course i am just generalizing and there are so many facets of this issue(not just white peoples of course) that annoy me and although i want to, i shant go on.. coz these things make me roll my eyes out of their sockets :) lols, times like this, i am tempted to join the dark side- my brother's view. lols

anyhoos.. i gotta go textile shopping with my mommy. tons and tons of fun! btw hammy i miss you~

oh i heart you so

"It would be Lewis calling at three in the morning to say, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i never meant to hurt you." As if that made everything all right. As if not meaning to hurt someone must lessen the depth of the pain you had so unwittingly inflicted upon them. As if hurting someone when you hadn't meant to was not a criminal act after all. As if the aftermath ofpain was merely an incidental byproduct, like the unidentifiable remains they stuff wieners in." - Diane Schoemperlen, Language of love. what a cheesy name eh...doesnt do justice to the content/quality of the book. it echoes alot of my fleeting daily private thoughts..

arrrr... dont know why i am so tired this todayyy... fell asleep just a while ago after dropping hammy off and i can hardly bear to move around now... *lazy assed* lol i didnt even want to go to the gym with my brotherr... my triceps hurt.. thought they looked very flabby yesterday and went crazy with the tricep machine. hey its true eh...exercise ehances boobs~ sigh, that sucks fer moi... coz i think muscular backs are sexy. they say short skirts are for short people.. how come i think i look unbelivable unattractive and fat-legged in them? i can always trust my legs and boobs to kill my mood everytime i see em in outfits i happily put together. good ol' trusty body parts.

omg i hate the way my room looks now. ARGGGGG!! it really needs a makeover. i esp hate that collage of pictures hanging above my bed. I NEED NEW PICTURES! mmm MUST TAKE MORE.

said i wanted to read at least 80 books this summer (20 books a mth).. lol. but i probably only read 5(give and take 1) so far and a stack of books of magic comics. not goood. gotta pick things up a little... hopefully will read like 50.. and get started on my essay too.its due in 6 days! *shrieks* and i still dont know if i want to do JOhn Donne or shakespeare or wyatt!! nooOOOOO!!

mmm.. im tired and my rooms messy and i need a new job. *snore* (#*$_)$(# gotta call golf town.ARGH. *slits throat*

mmm gotta get rid of my textbooks... and i would already get about 60 bucks from the school bookstore for some of them.. and the novels.. shall go downtown and hunt for used bookstores to sell them to for a couple dollars each while walking around. fun fun.

i always fantasized(and still do occasionally) about the romantic notion of being a stunningly beautiful and mysterious young artist (not artitse.. whatever u spell it).. usually up in my studio apartment working, living on a lover's caress and kisses and graham crackers soaked in canned soup whenever i remember to eat.. sipping wine and laughing at parties, exhibitions, seminars swarming with fellow passionate art victims, in that only little black expensive dress i own with exotic earrings i found in some dingy store at the corner of the street, before returning home to paint maps of the bluish veins running along his hands,hips, feet, the expanse of his sweet eyes. but then again.. no one would tell you about the poetry(or lack of)of the leaking roof, unpaid bills piling up on that ratty coffee table you found at some junk yard sale, the cost of soap strands of your dark hair would find itself tangled in, your lover's tantrums, the broken furnace.. and the cold nights your finished work would sit in a dark room, untouched. unappreciated. unsold.

and here i am, spinning an old fantasy from my imagination onto a keyboard in the middle of a warm afternoon after staring at MY unused little black dress hanging at the back of the closet i just tidied... im a crappy university stupid with no artistic talents whatsoever, unwilling to admit that i will never want to lose the luxury of the level of comfort my daddy has given me... with an unattractive allergy to any form of alcohol, however refined. not to mention my lack of that "stunning beauty" and "mystery"(lol).. PLUS, im picky about some minion job at some golf store and i want 5 nice cars in the future.

haha, shut up pearle.

i hate it when you leave like that -
with everything tumbling to a hush while the
tremor in my body does not cease.
the world harsh on my raw nerves,
exfoiated skin.
this raw heart silently sinks into scorched sand.
until you come back.

-purl-

mmm i want to go to starbucks or timothy's but there are peoples on sunday! :( darns..

Everytime I Close My Eyes - babyface.. *tears* its so dreamy! okok im the type of girl who is slightly ashamed of her music taste.. and im aware of how mushy and disgusting it may be.. BUT ITS MY BLOG AND IM GONNA USE STEREOTYPES AS MY ARGUMENT! haaa

Girl it's been a long, long time comin', yes it has
But I, I know that it's been worth the wait
It feels like springtime in winter
It feels like Christmas in June
It feels like heaven has opened up it's gates for me and you

Every time I close my eyes
I thank the lord that I've got you
And you've got me too
And every time I think of it
I pinch myself cuz I don't believe it's true
That someone like you loves me too

Girl I think that you're truly somethin', yes you are
And you're, you're every bit of a dream come true, yes you are
With you baby, it never rains
And it's no wonder
The sun always shines when I'm near you
It's just blessing that I have found somebody like you

To think of all the nights I've cried myself to sleep
You really oughta know how much you mean to me
It's only right, it's only right
In my life that you be in my life right here with me

NOTE: this is entirely satryical and false and dedicated to my old man #2, Ronald Wong.
the singaporean-to-get-a-girl guide for desperate guys:
1. work your ass off and own a BMW 745 and pick your girl up everyday. unless you want to be a xp-victim, please act like the taxi is your friend instead of driving ur truck. its still better than the bus. lols.
2. dance and wriggle on stage like 5566 lord of the gaylords.
3. starve yourself and be sure to look like stickmen - gives you a higher chance of getting into the "pretty boy" catagory
4. if you are naturally skinny, you're in luck! lols
5. have plastic surgery and somehow fix it to look like members of 5566 or jay chou *shudders*
6. pretend your dad owns some prestigious software company and dole out on the drinks and presents when shes around. by the time she finds out the truth she would be too smitten to care if you are a pauper, which of course by then you are, after all the presents and expensive resturant meals
7. DO NOT even TRY to convince yourself you will ever find someone who is soft, white, and sews, cooks and pampers you like a king. Live with the newage girls, mister. YOU do the cooking.
8. try not to be patronizing when she insists on paying.. even though you do pay in the end. :)
9. pretend you went to a western country to study or something. she will fall on her knees and beg u take her home. even better if you already are an expat - bonus equipment gets you everywhere
10. in a nutshell, because of endless complaints of how supperficial and materialistic singaporean girls are, i have made this brief outline for those who have yet to snap a singaporean girl up.

THEN, as a comparism and a continuation of this joke, i will also provide a biased canadianized-singaporean guide to girls:
1. be funny
2. be intelligent
3. be loveable
4. drive whatever you want.. if its a scooter, get her a hot pink helmet with her name on it
5. have curly hair
6. tell her shes gorgeous and mean it even when shes wearing purple. lol.. and pretend she isnt fat.
7. split the bill, she would pay with all the inheritence she has.
8. be neat and clean
9. take off them socks at certain places.. haha
10. just be nice and kind.

lols!! promotion of one self. hahaaa.. its all jokes ok!!

omg i better get my jiggly arse to the gym today!! but shall bring dawne to chapters first, since she wnats to go there.. and get me my bodyshop lipbalm. dodoodoos... shall do some studyingtonight while hammys buusyy *blows smoochies*

Take Me Away - lifehouse

this time all I want is you
there is no one else
who can take your place
this time you burned me with your eyes
you see past all the lies
you take it all away
I've seen it all and it's never enough
it keeps leaving me needing you
take me away
I've got nothing left to say
just take me away
I try to make my way to you
but still I feel so lost
I don't know what else I can do

I've got nothing left to say
just take me away

don't give up on me yet
don't forget who I am
I know I'm not there yet
but don't let me stay here alone
this time all I want is you
there is no one else
who can take your place

I've seen it all and it's never enough
it keeps leaving me needing you
take me away